


Late Night Jam

by anemptymargin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Food Sex, Kink Meme, M/M, Rimming, mild crack, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John, plum jam, and sleep disorders… a curious combination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Jam

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I’m allowed to play in a kink meme. Really. All love goes to the anon OP who totally won my heart. This is my first Sherlock piece, what a way to go. Shift in tense is intentional as it denotes a shift in time - back to the night before. That and I actually wrote the second part before I wrote the first. Prefaced to say that while this story is complete fiction, this is actually quite possible. Many hypnotic sedatives now warn for possible walking/eating/sex/conversations with amnesia for the events, which I found out a bit too late for my own use. Hah. No beta, proof read while tired. Please be forgiving and send any corrections along.

_Prompt: Sherlock likes his men the way he likes his toast: hot, slightly browned, and completely smothered in jam._

 __

John Watson receives a text as he is sitting down to a casual curry dinner with the lovely Sarah, who for reasons he did not yet understand continues to give him the time of day.

 

 _Out of jam. Plum._

 _SH_

 

He sets his phone down on the table, setting it to vibrate as opposed to the rather shrill squalling Sherlock had taken the liberty of setting as his custom tone. “Never mind that, then. Bloody fool texting about our grocery deficit.”

 

She chuckles and smiles, wiping a small drip from her lips. “He really is hopeless without you, isn’t he?”

 

John’s lips quirk into a smile and he takes another piece of naan. “Don’t know, I mean… he seemed to get on well enough before me.”

 

Sarah nods and the phone vibrates twice. “He is persistent, isn’t he?”

 

John smiles again and doesn’t want to look, but does anyway.

 

 _Your new medication needs adjusting._

 _We are out of jam._

 _SH_

 

He shakes his head and chuckles himself. “I started new medication last night. Apparently Sherlock thinks the dosage is incorrect.” He picks up the phone and flips it open. “Not surprising he doubts my ability to select my own sleep medication.”

 

 _I am a doctor. I think I can figure proper dosing._

 _I will stop at the supermarket on the way._

 

“Mmm.” Sarah scoots in closer, letting her shoulder press against John’s a long moment as she reads the text over his shoulder. “You aren’t his PA, you know. He should have to do the shopping once in a while too.”

 

“No, God no.” John grins, waiting for the strong vibration again. “The last time he bought his own groceries we ended up with three tins of beans and a pig’s head.”

 

Sarah laughs, much louder than before and when she briefly leans her head on his shoulder John’s grin grows even wider. “You smell good, John… different, a little sweet.”

 

John shrugs and inhales sharply, “You too, reminds me a bit of the plum jam he’s been keen on lately.”

 

She sits up and gives him a bemused look. “That isn’t me.”

 

“It is. I smelled it…” He thought back, realizing she was indeed correct. “In the cab, I assumed it was the driver.”

 

“No, it’s definitely you.”

 

The phone vibrates again.

 

 _Do you remember yet?_

 _SH_

 

John groans and shakes his head, “This may be important. He’s teasing me and I don’t know why.”

 

“Because you smell like jam?”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He responds, trying to remember whatever it is that Sherlock thinks he has forgotten.

 

 _I’m having a curry with Sarah - what am I supposed to remember?_

 

“Probably just a silly thing, John.” Sarah returns to her meal with less interest than before. “He’s trying to cause trouble again.”

 

“He doesn’t have to try.” John takes a bite, but the flavor seems sweeter than before. Annoyed, he closes his eyes and tries to focus - picking backwards step by step. Meal with Sarah. Terrible American film about dreams. Cab ride over. He opens his eyes when the phone goes off again.

 

 _Hypnotic sedative._

 _SH_

 

“Hypnotic sedative?” John muttered, “That doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Your medication, is it a hypnotic?”

 

“Yes, of course…” John trails off, “Of course. Damn.” He mutters under his breath and takes a giant step backwards in his reverse thoughts. Waking up in his bed, fresh sheets he didn’t remember changing. “I changed my bed last night.”

 

“So… you spilled something in bed?” Sarah really was trying to be helpful, but her grasp of Sherlock’s thought process wasn’t nearly as advanced as John’s… which isn’t really saying much at all.

 

“Unlikely, I’ve taken hypnotics before and never had a problem with temporary amnesiac episodes.”

 

“It’s not uncommon, John. You can’t rule it out.”

 

“I don’t bring things upstairs; if I’d gotten up for something I would have consumed it in the kitchen.” John mutters defensively, his recollection was only of turning off the lights downstairs with Sherlock asleep on the sofa and being quite sleepy when he curled up on his bed. “Even if I’d had an episode I would be more likely to have killed myself on the stairs then brought something up to spill.” He licks his lips and responds to the text.

 

 _Amnesic episode possible. Did I wake you?_

 

John shook his head, “I must have eaten his jam in my sleep. Don’t know why I would, I don’t much care for it.”

 

Sarah chuckles under her breath, shrugging only one shoulder as she rolls a chunk of chicken in the green sauce with her spoon. “I’m sure you’ve heard of people doing stranger things whilst sleeping.”

 

“Not really, no.” The phone goes off again, Sherlock must be quite bored.

 

 _You wanted my jam. Quite unexpected, but it was enjoyable._

 _SH_

 

“Ahh, see. Mystery solved. You ate his jam.”

 

 _Sorry I ate your jam. I don’t even like plum._

 

John shakes his head and sets the phone aside, his meal gone cold. “I didn’t have time to brush my teeth after lunch; I’ve been in the city all day.” He sighs, and then runs his tongue over the inside of his mouth - unable to taste anything but the strong curry. He didn’t recall tasting plum jam, but perhaps he’d forgotten that taste as well.

 

A quiet moment passes and Sarah looks as though she’s about to say something when the phone buzzes again. “Maybe it would be best if you just called him?”

 

“He doesn’t like talking on the phone.”

 

 _You didn’t. I did, by request of course._

 _SH_

 

John furrows his brow, thoroughly confused as he tried to piece it together. In his bed. Sherlock. Jam. Why would he ever ask that Sherlock eat the bloody jam that he’d normally eat on his own with those stupid little inexpensive tea biscuits?  Sherlock. Jam. Bed. John swears under his breath as the thread begins to reveal itself, “He came up to my room last night. With jam. And ate jam in my bed.”

 

“That doesn’t sound so bad, a little strange… but this is Sherlock. I suppose eating jam in your bed while you sleep is not entirely out of the ordinary.”

 

“I don’t think I was asleep.”

 

 _Why would I ask you to eat in my room?_

John and Sarah wait quietly, intrigued by the somewhat unusual mystery.

 

 _That’s where you wanted to do it._

 _I told you I wouldn’t put my mouth on it unless it was worth eating._

 _SH_

 

John makes a small squeak in the back of his throat. Sarah blushes, and they both look away from the mobile. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean what I think you think he means.” John manages to stumble over his words, trying even harder to pull up the event despite knowing full and well it is unlikely to be remembered. He picked up the phone and called.

 

“I was wondering how long you’d hold out before calling.” Sherlock answered on the first ring.

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I want more jam.” He paused, “Is she angry with you?”

 

“No, we’re just a little embarrassed by your implications.” John lowers his voice to a more authoritative tone.

 

“I implied nothing. That was a statement of complete fact. I can’t believe you’ve no memory of last night.”

 

“Will you please confirm that absolutely nothing inappropriate happened last night?” He pauses, hitting the key for speakerphone. “On speaker, please.”

 

Sherlock sighs over the line. “How childish, John. Fine. Nothing inappropriate happened last night.” He mumbles with a distinct lack of inflection. “And if you wish for nothing to happen tonight I highly recommend eating more curry.”

 

John hangs up the phone before Sherlock can further sink him. “There, see. He’s just being… eccentric.”

 

“Very convincing.” Sarah rolls her eyes and clears the table.

 

***

 

 John stumbled on the steps, falling into the wall with a loud thump. Intrigued by the noise, Sherlock let himself be roused from his light sleep. “John?” When no response came save for the shuffle of John’s feet as he continued towards the kitchen, he repeated; “John?”

 

Sherlock got up slowly, stretching out his back. When John stumbled again on the fourth step he made his way towards the landing. “You’re sleepwalking, John. Go to bed.” He stood on the bottom step, watching John perilously edging further forward on the stair. “Come on, then.” He took the steps in pairs, closing the distance in time to catch John as he teetered over the edge of the fourth.

 

He guided the small man back to bed, almost lifting him over each rise until finally, he dropped John onto the mattress. Curious, Sherlock turned on a bedside lamp and found the bottle still sitting on his bed stand. “A hypnotic sedative. I knew you had a difficult time with sleep, but this is all wrong from your brain, John.” He sighed, resisting the urge to simply pocket the bottle.

 

“Mmm, Sherlock.” John muttered, rolling onto his back - his pyjamas tugging against him. “You’ve come for me then, have you?”

 

“Stop it, John. You’re sleeping.”

 

“My dream or yours?” John opened his sleepy eyes, rubbing them with his fingertips a moment. The truly frightening part was that to someone who did not know what to look for he could pass for merely sleepy or drunk.

 

“Yours.” Sherlock sat down on the side of the tiny bed, letting his palm rest against John’s leg to show he was actually present. “In a manner of speaking.”

 

“Mmm, you’re not wearing that awful dressing gown in my dream.” John sighed, sitting halfway up. “I insist you remove it at once.”

 

Sherlock chuckled slightly, and then shouldered it off. “I had a bath before my mediations. I’m not wearing anything else.”

 

“Much better.” John smiled, leaning back against the pillow once more - satisfied with the bare skin. “Where were we, then?” His eyes were half lidded and glassy, definitely far off.

 

“You were sleeping.” Sherlock responded softly, dropping the silk gown to the floor. “I’m watching to make sure you don’t try to kill yourself on the steps again.”

 

“Right.” John let out a soft yawn, working his shoulders hard against his little pillow - managing to drive it against the wall. “How boring for you.”

 

“Oh, I think I can manage.” Sherlock smiled. “I’m going to get a bit of a snack, when I come back you should be asleep.”

 

“Mmm, right. I suppose.” John muttered, closing his eyes before Sherlock had even made it down the steps and to the cupboard. When he returned with a small jar of plum jam and biscuit tin, John had indeed listened to his suggestion.

 

“Much better.” Sherlock muttered, sitting at the end of the narrow bed. On a whim, he scooted in closer, pulling up John’s feet to let them rest in his lap.

 

After less than an hour, the biscuits were gone. Still savoring the flavor, Sherlock dipped in the tip of his small spoon and considered eating it without the crunchy accompaniment. It didn’t seem right, but little did without the proper order of things. With just a small dab on the tip of utensil, he lifted it to his mouth - unable to anticipate the twitch and kick of John’s bare foot against his stomach. “Damn you, John.” He muttered under his breath, finding that his spoon had ended up jam down on the instep of John’s left foot. “Impossible.” With a sigh of resignation, he removed the spoon and set it back in the jar - running a strong thumb over the soft sole to collect the jam.

 

John moaned softly, pushing his foot back into Sherlock’s palm. “Mmm, yes…” He murmured, barely audible.

 

Sherlock’s mouth twisted into a soft smile and he licked the sticky jam off the side of his thumb. The sound… it was intoxicating like nothing he had heard before. He had to hear it again. Experimentally, he rubbed his thumb hard over the arch - eliciting a much smaller but still satisfying groan. Exquisite.

 

With a steady hand, Sherlock measured out another small dab of the preserves on the tip of his spoon - using one hand to draw John’s foot up closer. Boldly, he stroked the bowl of the spoon over the sensitive flesh - holding tight. “Shh… there we go…” He whispered to himself, once more balancing the spoon on the rim of the jar before dragging his thumb through the sticky coating. He just had to know what sort of sound would come next. Intently, he leaned in and inspected the clean foot - relatively satisfied with the results of his analysis, Sherlock lapped off the sweet goodness with one long lick. John lifted his foot once more, but this time instead of pushing into Sherlock’s hand it kicked at his face. John groaned, but not nearly as pleasantly as before. “Mmm, no fun there.” Sherlock responded under his breath. “I’m going to have to take off your trousers.”

 

“Oooh, yes…” John murmured, still quite clearly in that cloud of waking sleep. “A proposition.”

 

“A curiosity.” Sherlock corrected, tugging at the cuffs of John’s cotton pyjama bottoms. “With jam.”

 

“Mmmm, kinky fellow…”

 

Sherlock didn’t dignify the barb with a response; instead he wrestled the trousers off of John and onto the floor - his fingers working down well muscled calves to the gentle curve of the back of his knees. “Oooh, yes.” He licked his lower lip, and then leaned back just long enough to retrieve the jar. With another long stroke, he drew the spoon over the back of John’s left knee and considered the best possible angle to reach it with his mouth.

 

As it turns out, John Watson is horribly ticklish behind the knee - horribly ticklish and not at all afraid to attempt to smash someone’s face. His lips, however, proved to be quite a vast difference. As Sherlock licked the sweetness off of them, John’s mouth drew up to kiss him - feeling somewhat obligated to play into the man’s fantasy he participated actively, offering several deep kisses each punctuated with a guttural moan and the push of John’s hips against his thighs.

 

“Sherlock…” John groaned, his sleepy eyes once more open but glassy and far-away. “Are we?”

 

“It’s your dream, John.” Sherlock responded casually, pushing himself astride John’s hips - feeling the not entirely unexpected prod of John’s hardness butting against his inner thighs.

 

John moaned in response, the sound low and loud in the small room - sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through Sherlock’s body. He hadn’t actually anticipated it would go quite so far… but the little game was worth playing along it would seem. Sherlock rocked his hips, letting John’s cock press between his thighs before he leaned in close against the other man’s shirt. Teasing, he began to rock slowly - letting the hardness pass between his clenched thighs until John was flushed and whimpering, close to release.

 

“Shh, not yet.” Sherlock slowed, and then stopped - bracing both hands on John’s shoulders.

 

John let out a soft, strangled groan that almost made him reconsider stopping… almost.

 

“What are you dreaming, John Watson?” Sherlock whispered to himself, pushing back up with his weight spread across John’s thighs. When John did not respond, Sherlock gracefully settled down once more beside him on the narrow mattress. With a gentle touch, he rolled the smaller man easily onto his side. Curious and eager for more soft and pleasurable sounds, he stroked his index finger over the toned curve of John’s buttocks - parting the warm flesh.

 

“Oooh, yes.” John murmured, finishing the gentle roll onto his belly. Apparently taken with the thought that had not even been spoken, he pushed up on his knees - offering full display.

 

“I see.” Sherlock considered the offer a moment, it had gone much farther than anticipated… but when John let out an insistent whine he could not imagine refusing. Sherlock collected the dwindling jar of jam and his spoon and knelt at the end of the bed with a view of his flat mate he assumed few had ever had the luxury of examining up close… given John’s obvious insecurity and social submissiveness it was possible nobody had seen the way his back slopes down to the mattress, or even the pink skin where his scrotum joins with the perineum. It was a shame; really… the workings were quite fascinating up close and personal. As though it were the most natural thought, Sherlock once more dipped his spoon, heaping a good deal more onto the shallow bowl before tracing it very gently over the newly displayed flesh.

 

“Unh, what?” John murmured, spreading his knees somewhat further open.

 

“Jam.” Sherlock responded simply enough, applying a generous amount of the plum preserves. “I’m not putting my mouth on something I wouldn’t eat.”

 

“Sher… shh… shh…” John begins what may have been protest, replacing it with a guttural moan as Sherlock’s tongue replaced the cold metal spoon. “Oooh.”

 

Sherlock closed his eyes, nuzzling up the warm flesh much more eagerly with John’s assenting moans. Sweet sticky plums, with something different… he liked to think the tinge of something considered taboo even. He worked his tongue slowly, deliberately, over the sensitive skin - teasing and testing his own limits much more than his companion’s. Apparently quite eager for more, John pushed back hard against his mouth - the tip of Sherlock’s tongue opening him far too easily.

 

John shuddered hard and swore under his breath, “Christ… please… please…” He muttered against his pillow, rolling his hips forward and then back again to guide the gentle probing.

 

He didn’t need to be told what that meant; the simple tone was even more telling than his physical response. Sherlock steadied himself with a hand against the small of John’s back - letting his head rest against the unexpectedly soft cheeks, and then found John’s hard cock with his dominant hand. “Shh, relax.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the delicate skin - much darker than before with the combination of plums and a fresh rush of blood. He stroked John’s cock with an erratic momentum, driving him close enough to get that perfect pitch of mewling moan until it changed and he had to find the sweet spot again.

 

John’s moans began to taper off to whimpering, frantic pleas to be done with and Sherlock knew that it was time to finish the sordid experiment. With a final twisting stroke of his hand coupled with the hard flick of his tongue over John’s opening, his companion shuddered and loosed perhaps the most interesting sound yet.

 

Tired of his own game, Sherlock left the change of bedclothes to John who was surprisingly adept considering he was technically asleep… he’d make a bloody good drug addict with that sort of responsible behavior. Tucked into a chair in the corner, Sherlock watched him finish the bed and once more climb under his blanket and sleep. With only the slightest hint of disgrace tumbling around in his head, Sherlock tended to his own arousal and watched as John slept. It would be quite an interesting story, in time. Before that, however, he would require more jam.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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